other bits of blog

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

thorns

I know haven't posted in forever. If any of you care, you're totally welcome to come after me with pitchforks. I'll try to change my ways. And post more often. 
Sorry about that. 

This won't be long, it won't be tedious, it won't be short, it won't be pathetic. It'll just be. 

 
briar rose

love.
it’s the strangest thing.
the strangest,
funniest,
most incomprehensible,
beautiful,
terrible
wonderful
thing.

everyone writes about it,
and talks about it,
and pretends to know about it,
but really,
everyone has no idea what it is—
even when they're part of it,
or part of some bigger picture
that they don’t know about.

and it hurts
so much
when its not right.

i know i’ve said this
a million times before,
but why am I not allowed
to say it again?

touché.

again.

because i can’t devise a plan
for my own path.
it’s been trodden down so many times
in hopes of finding a clue—
anything—
to help me find the way.

there are little sticks and stones
thorn bushes, sometimes,
breaking me,
and even once or twice,
there’s been a tree
right in the middle
and I have to walk around it
into the briar
and the poison
and the ivy.
and i’m all alone.
the path split off from everyone else’s,
and we’re all alone.

but sometimes,

we see roses

blooming between the thorns
and briar
and ivy.

sometimes,
our paths cross
for just a little while,
or we see each other through the leaves
and smile.

and in that one glance,
worlds are exchanged.

and we walk along each other’s paths sometimes
just to get a feel for things
because we can’t make our own decisions
anymore.

sometimes, too,
i meet up with other people
whose paths connect with mine
or walk right along side it.

and it is in that moment
when everything clicks.

just clicks.

so loudly, you can hear it—
so loudly, you can hear me smiling
from miles away.

that’s love.

right then, when everything clicks,
and something so cliché and beautiful
happens.

a robin sings,
or the rain molds itself into a rainbow.

and for the first time, you can see that rainbow.

you can see the vibrant hues,
and it all feels perfect.
because your life was in black and white
and now it’s in color.

but the funny thing about love
is that you never noticed your life was in black and white
because you never even knew that color existed.

it’s like you’re a child again
and everything is perfect,
analyzed in microscopic detail.

you’re seeing the world from a whole new perspective,
and it’s like
you’ve discovered gold.
except it’s better than that.
it’s like you’ve discovered the sky
it’s been blue
over you
for so long,
but you never knew it was there.

you’ve forgotten your path;
you don’t care about it anymore,
because who would care
about fate
or destiny
or whatever doesn’t exist
when the sky
and your hand in mine
is a million times
more beautiful.

it’s all so beautiful

that it hurts
to look

at you.



Thank you, friends. For everything.
I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you.